


Original works of randomness

by mariasue123



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6404146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariasue123/pseuds/mariasue123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little stories or drabbles about anything random. Some dark, some sweet, some weird. Anything from letters to Fairy tales. This is just something fun for me to try out and hopefully improve my writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Original works of randomness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A monologue about Death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally a project for my English lit class but I got so in to it, that I decided to put it in as my starting point.

I have a rendezvous with Death. One could call it an unhealthy relationship. 

While he is callous, emotionally distant and sometimes cruel, there is an indescribable enticement that pulls me towards him. I don't know if it could be called charisma but he does have a certain aura that pulls me towards him. Every now and again, I send him gifts; little presents like a particularly beautiful flower or an especially gifted human. These are generally met with gentle disapproval and long periods of silence between us, to my continued dismay. He tells me to stop,that they break his heart. To which I reply, I didn't think you had a heart. He usually responds with an exasperated sigh or a brooding silence. Such brilliant chemistry we have. And while he does express his 'heartbreak' at my presents, he tells me,when he has finished brooding, it is because they are so beautiful. And I know, he keeps everyone of them. Death can be gentle, and his actions are sometimes kind despite his cold exterior.  One day, when we are closer, I will tell him so. 

But Death also has a hidden, cruel side. He revels in blood, feasts well in times of peril and war. No matter how I try to see it his way, I can never understand why. When such times occur, before he goes to the mortal world, he always tells me to stay way, to not look at the carnage below. Even though he tells me this, sometimes I cannot avert my eyes and slip away, and try to find him. I see him take so much, I want to reach out to him and tell him to stop. But it scares me, he scares me to no end and I go back, unseen and hidden. Finally, when he has finished and returns, he will not look at me for days after. It is always disconcerting to see him like that, but I don't speak. Usually Death is the one to find me; I very rarely go looking for him.

But the next time he goes I might.

Sometimes I hate death, despite his good intentions.The gifts that I give to him are all well ripened and ready for the next world. Taking the life of a small child is unspeakably needless, unspeakably cruel. But when I ask him why, I am met with cold eyes and the simple statement of "This is the way it is." But I grow less and less satisfied with his response. In a rage, I do not speak to him, I know it is hopeless to clamour for his attention, to demand he answer me. Like I said, I very rarely go looking for him.

Death is arrogant, cruel, cold and distant. I could hate him so much. He refuses to let me know why, refuses to answer me. Sometimes I think he is trying to protect me, but I doubt he cares that much, the unfeeling bastard that he is. And yet, he is kind. Though he would not willingly tell me, I know he treasures every gift I give. I have often seen him watching me silently from a distance, as if wanting to speak to me and yet always holding back.

I guess that makes two of us.


End file.
